


A Vulnerable Heart

by KaleidoScopeOfIce



Category: Antisepticeye - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: ABDL, Age Regression/De-Aging, Caregiver headspace, Caregiver/little, Caretaking, Daddy headspace, Daddy!Anti, Diaper Accidents, Diapers, Fear of Abandonment, Finger Painting, Harmful Comments, Ice Cream, Insecurity, Little Headspace, Little!Jack, M/M, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Panic Attacks, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Playgrounds, Prolonged Age Regression, boo boos, bubble baths, reassurance, ya'll these two are the most precious dorks in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-11 22:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16861096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaleidoScopeOfIce/pseuds/KaleidoScopeOfIce
Summary: Your baby blues, so full of wonder.  Your curly q's.  Your contagious smile.  And as I watch, you start to grow up.  All I can do is hold you tight.  Knowing clouds will rage in, storms will race in, but you will be safe in my arms.Rains will pour down, waves will crash around, but you will be safe in my arms.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Plutonic and I started on this collab awhile back, since we're both big fans of Janti and love writing about Age Regression. The two just seemed to go hand in hand, and we both had a fucking blast writing this together <3 Hope you all enjoy <3

Jack bolted awake in his own bed. His eyes were wide, sweat was running down his forehead, and his heart was racing.

It had been another nightmare.

They had been reoccurring for the past few days now, but with each night, they only seemed to grow worse. And this one just happened to be the worst of them all.

Jack sat up in his bed, eyes darting around the room in panic. It was dark. Everything was dark. And the only sounds he could hear were his frantic heart and his desperate breaths. He felt trapped. Trapped in that nightmare again. Almost like it hadn't ended. He could feel the room getting smaller, the darkness slowly trapping him. Jack whimpered loudly, squirming in his bed; the sheets suddenly feeling like hands, grabbing at his legs and body, wanting to drag him back down into that hellish nightmare. He kicked his legs and pushed at the blankets. They just kept grabbing onto him.

Trapping him.

Suffocating him.

He was falling again. Jack closed his eyes and screamed. He screamed and wailed, tears freely running down his face now as he struggled in his invisible binds. He cried out, wordless shouts of panic and utter terror wrecking his throat. He screamed harder. His breaths became harder to find, and soon he was choking. Choking on his own tears, gasping for air, like someone was strangling him.

Words.

He couldn't form words!

All he could do was gasp and cough and choke.

Anti was sprawled across the couch, munching on some cookies he’d stolen from the kitchen cabinet, watching a TV show he didn’t really care about. It had been a lazy day; Jack had prepped videos the previous week so they could have a nice, relaxing break, as the brown-haired man looked a bit stretched thin, his composure barely contained. Because of this, he had been sleeping the whole evening, so Anti just kept relatively quiet, doing his own stuff.

He was about to move to the next episode of the show, when he heard harsh coughing coming from upstairs. Is he sick again? He wondered, and paused the TV to hear more attentively. Between gasps of breath, though, his ears picked up a sound he’d never mistake—sobbing. Jack was crying. Anti frowned, placing the cookie bag in the sofa to get up, moving towards the staircase. The sobbing sounded strained, as if forcing itself out, painfully, rapidly. Was he hurt? He picked up his pace, and ran upstairs.

As soon as he got close to Jack's door, he paused, panting.

“Jack?” He called. No response. “Jack, are you okay, buddy?” 

More sobbing.

“ _D-Daddy…D-Daddy…_ ” Jack's strained voice caught Anti's ears. His heart rate picked up. 

He opened the door.

Jack's head shot up, blue eyes wide with a never-ending trail of heavy tears coming out of them. His cheeks were red, forehead covered in sweat, his entire form shook while kicking the covers from his legs and clutching them in a tight grip at the same time. He was breathing heavily, panting, and Anti’s sudden appearance caused him to yelp and cough through his sobs. After a moment of shock, Anti rushed to the bed, realizing the crying man was choking on his own breath.

“Jack! What happened?!” He asked, newfound panic twisting his gut. The man before him just cried harder. 

The green-haired man sprang into action. He crawled up next to Jack, and gently, oh so delicately, put his arms on Jack's back and behind his knees, lifting him up and placing him on his lap. He guided his head to rest on his shoulder while carding his fingers through the brown locks, lightly rocking their bodies from left to right. Anti kept making soothing noises, humming a few lullabies, coaching him on breathing.

“Breathe, Jack, come on. That’s it, baby. You’re okay, you’re safe, understand? I’m right here with you.” He kept whispering, until Jack's breathing started to even out in slow, deep gasps.

After a few minutes, the body curled above him sagged, utterly spent. Anti looked down, his green eyes meeting half-lidded blue ones. 

“Do you want to go back to sleep, sweetheart? You can tell me what happened later,” he murmured, receiving a meek nod against his neck. 

While Jack slept as he was held so tightly and comfortably, Anti’s mind raced. _Did something terrible happen? Is he hurt? I can’t see any injuries, what happened?!_ He closed his eyes, his head against the headboard, and matched Jack's breathing with his own, waiting for him to wake up again.

 

\--------

 

Jack ended up sleeping throughout the remainder of the night, leaving Anti to breathe a small sigh of relief, but still worried for his boy.

He knew that Jack had been struggling with sleeping these past few days. The Irishman had been complaining about constant nightmares, and going to many different lengths to try and have a decent good night's rest. He would exercise to try and wear himself out, perhaps read a book or two. He had even bought some sleeping medicine that was guaranteed to knock a person out within minutes.

Yet, despite all of Jack's efforts, sleep still didn't come easy for him. And it didn't stay easy either.

Oh well. Come morning, Anti would hopefully be able to confront Jack properly about what he had witnessed.

A few hours later, when the sky turned a pale morning pink, the Irishman stirred in Anti's arms. The green-haired man opened his eyes and looked down, to see his tired friend sucking his thumb peacefully. He sighed in relief.

“Can you tell me what happened, baby?” He whispered, looking into his confused eyes. “You got me pretty worried.”

“S-scary dream…” Jack stuttered.

“It must have been all the stress you were putting yourself through, huh?” He said, but there was no bite in his tone. “How about we have a nice bath, get into comfy clothes, and go eat something, hm?” The boy nodded.

Slowly, Anti got out of bed, still carrying Jack in his arms, and went to the bathroom, where he filled a tub with warm water and lavender scented bubbles. He placed Jack on the cold edge, and calmly removed his wrinkled pajamas. As soon as the boy was under the water, his body immediately relaxed, and he let out a content sigh. He played absent mindedly with his yellow rubber ducks while the green-haired man washed his hair and cleaned him thoroughly. The only sounds being the splatter of water drops.

Bath finished, the Irishman was dried and laid in bed, as Anti put him on a diaper. Realistically, it was just for comfort’s sake; his baby knew how to go potty, but the feeling of a diaper seemed to calm him down, and he’d enjoy his Little headspace more. As soon as he was powdered and diapered, he wore a cute green and blue onesie, with a big, comfy hood, that had little bear ears on the top. 

“You’re so precious.” He booped Jack's nose, earning a soft giggle from the boy. His heart melted a bit.

He picked him up once again, after getting his Baby's pacifier and soft blanket, and went downstairs to the kitchen. The green-haired man placed the Little in his highchair, and started making his favourite pancakes for breakfast. Meanwhile, Jack picked up his paci and let it bob around his lips, while gently rubbing his blanket on his cheek for comfort. _Daddy's here now, he’ll protect me,_ he thought. And he was right.

He watched with curious eyes as his Daddy poured the pancake batter into the sizzling pan. Then how he effortlessly flipped each pancake, till they were a splendid golden brown. Jack was starting to grow restless, kicking his feet back and forth and smacking the table on his highchair.

"Pancakes! Pancakes!" he chanted, causing his paci to fall out of his mouth. It bounced off of the table and fell to the floor.

Jack immediately realized his mistake, and suddenly began to cry again. His lower lip wobbled and a heartbreaking sob crawled out of his throat. Anti looked over his shoulder. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Jack was unable to answer, beginning to full on cry once more. Anti noticed his paci was missing. Scanning the floor, he quickly found it. "Oh Jackabug, did you drop your paci?" he asked, pulling himself away from his work and reaching down to snag the comfort item. Jack could only reply in more sobs, bringing his hands up to his face and crying into them. He just wanted his paci back!

"Ssssshhhhh sssshhhhh, it's okay, buddy. Let Daddy just wash this off and you'll get it right back, okay?" Anti gently held Jack's head, giving a soft kiss to the Irishman's forehead. Jack sniffled the entire five seconds it took Anti to rinse the dirty paci underneath a steady stream of water, before drying it off and handing it back to the Little. The paci was popped back into his mouth, and just like that, the crying immediately stopped. Anti gave an amused sigh, grabbing a tissue and wiping at his baby boy's eyes. He knew how easily Jack could get upset when he was in this headspace, but it had been awhile since he had last seen the brown-haired man cry over losing his paci. Most often Jack would just complain and whine, but it seemed that his mind was just a bit more fragile than usual this time.

He set the pancakes on a plate, and cut some strawberries to put on top of it, then stuck a piece with a fork and guided it to the brown-haired man's mouth. Jack let the pacifier fall from his lips again and ate it hungrily, almost devouring it.

“You really are hungry, aren’t you?” He mused, Jack just smiled as he continued to eat.

While the Baby was distracted, Anti pondered. It wasn’t a surprise that Jack would slip into Little headspace when he was too stressed— it was expected, even. But whenever he slipped unwillingly, because of something sudden and overwhelming, like getting hurt, too spooked or upset, the green-haired man couldn’t help but worry about him. Well, more than usual. And he wouldn’t have thought much of it, but as Jack fiddled with his paci in his hands while being fed, Anti caught a slight tremble in his figure, his eyes were wide still, and it felt like if he made a sound that was a bit too loud, the Little would start crying again.

“What do you think of getting to colour today, while watching some cartoons?” He asked calmly. Jack nodded.

They finished breakfast, and went to the living room, Jack being laid carefully in the soft carpet in front of the sofa, with crayons and clean paper sheets scattered around the small table in the middle. As soon as the Baby's eyes met the items, he immediately started drawing silly pictures, immersed in the soft cloud of headspace, glancing at the TV every now and then. Anti sat on the couch once again, his knees lazily but protectively brushing against the boy's back.

The day went uneventfully enough, with a few cries and protests here and there made through pacified lips and teary blue eyes, but an otherwise calm Baby. Jack had ended up resting his back against the sofa between Anti's parted legs, as he ran his fingers through the Little's hair, watching cartoons with half-lidded eyes and sucking noisily on his paci.

“Alright, baby bug, let’s get you in bed.” He softly prompted. The boy found himself too sleepy to protest.

When they got into Jack's room, his breathing picked up in Anti's arms, and he held his Daddy's shirt in a tight grip. He looked up, their eyes locked, the green-haired man's expression softened.

“I’m not gonna leave you, baby. I’ll sleep right here,” He assured him. The sigh of relief the boy let out breaking his heart a little.

They got into bed, snuggled in, Anti cradling Jack as he nuzzled his shirt and curled up, hugging his teddy bear. The Little slept almost instantly, leaving his Daddy thinking about what tomorrow would bring. Jack would be out of headspace by then, and so he could talk about what happened. He sighed, relaxed, slept.


	2. Chapter 2

Anti was the first to wake up. He often did, since Jack had a tendency to sleep in like a rock. Carefully untangling himself from the Irishman's arms, Anti made his way to the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face. First ice cold to help him wake up, and then warm water to help him relax. He grabbed a towel, drying off his face as he watched Jack from across the room. The brown-haired man had his thumb in his mouth, making Anti giving a quiet chuckle. Even when Jack wasn't in headspace, he would still get caught with his thumb in his mouth as he slept. It was why Anti usually encouraged Jack to go to bed with a paci. The Irishman refused of course, with his ears always turning pink at the thought.

Anti rejoined Jack in the bed, carefully sitting next to him as he leaned back against the headboard. He let his fingers very gently card through the other's brown locks. Jack was in need of a haircut. Anti made a face. He'd probably get on the Irishman's case about that once he woke up. But of course, after Jack told him about the nightmare he had.

When Jack stirred, Anti was fully waiting for him to be back at his adult headspace, and be embarrassed by his Little behaviour, as usual. That wasn’t the case. The brown-haired man sleepily opened his eyes looking up at him, sucking his thumb harder. Okay, he’s still Little, he thought. Sometimes headspace would last for two days, when he was exceptionally stressed. Maybe they should have had a break sooner.

“Hey buddy, are you feeling better?” 

A nod. 

“What do you think about going to the park today?”

“Swing?” the boy asked. Anti smiled.

“Yeah, we can play with the swings.”

And so they went. They ate breakfast, changed clothes, Jack was wearing his onesie under his coat, his paci on the pocket. He was always nervous about being Little in public. Anti usually had to be extra coaching so he wouldn’t force himself off headspace out of anxiety. Not today, though. His boy seemed eager to go out, didn’t even think twice about it. That was probably for the best, if he was being honest; wouldn’t want more nervousness in his current fragile mind.

They got into the car, the park was some blocks away. Anti buckled Jack up with the seatbelt, and put on some random radio station to fill the silence. He could hear Jack counting the trees that passed by, and saying ‘hi' to the birds. His Baby was happy, content. He was safe, and that’s all that mattered. 

As they arrived the park, Jack was practically bouncing out of the car, and ran eagerly to the closest swing.

“Daddy! Daddy, push!” he called. The place was empty, they didn’t have to be quiet about anything. Anti chuckled.

“You want Daddy to help you with the swing?” he asked in a warm tone. The boy nodded excitedly. “Okay, here we go!” 

Jack yelped and squealed laughter, his feet kicking the air. The cold wind hit his pinkish cheeks, his hair was already a mess. The green-haired man gave him a break, his breath was coming in little pants, his eyes sparkling with joy. He took out his phone to take a picture, Jack secretly loved those.

“Smile for the picture, sweetheart.” He did. That one was going to be on a portrait, for sure. “Did you bring your phone with you? Would you like a picture on it, too?”

“No,” the boy shook his head, “phone mean.”

“What do you mean?” Anti asked, puzzled.

“Mean people. Phone mean.” And just like that, he went off to the slides.

Anti stood there, a little dumbstruck. _Phone mean? What was Jack talking about? Mean people?_ Anti felt fear grip his heart. Had Jack been hurt by somebody? The Irishman obviously wasn't telling the whole story, and he definitely wasn't gonna get it out of him while he was in this headspace.

What mattered now though was keeping Jack safe and happy.

He carefully watched as Jack climbed his way up to the top of the slide. The Little looked down below to his daddy, and smiled wide before enthusiastically waving to him. "Hi Daddy! You look so small down there! Like an ant!"

Anti grinned. "I could say the same about you, bugger. Just be careful up there. Want Daddy to catch you at the bottom of the slide?"

"Yeah!"

"Alright, buddy. Whenever you're ready."

He watched as Jack plopped himself down onto his bottom, before effortlessly sliding down. Anti was waiting at the bottom, with arms open wide. As soon as Jack had hit the bottom, Anti scooped him up into his arms and spun him around. This caused the Irishman to squeal with excitement.

"Daddy! Ha ha, stop it!" Jack's bubbly laughter was nothing but contagious, causing Anti to give a small chuckle in return.

"You're such a big boy!" Anti praised, leaning in and giving a loud raspberry to his baby boy's neck. Jack squealed again and continued to laugh.

He looked at his watch. It was about lunch time already.

“Alright, baby boy, what do you wanna eat, hm?” he asked.

“Hm…Ice cream!” the boy answered. Anti shook his head with a smile. Of course his Baby would want ice cream.

“We can get ice cream later, but we can’t have it for lunch, silly!”

“Why not?” he pouted.

“Because it’s not healthy. We need to eat healthily to grow up!”

“I don’t wanna grow up. I want ice cream.” he whined. If Anti wasn’t careful, his boy would throw a tantrum right there in the park.

“But baby,” he tried, “if you eat a proper lunch, we’ll get all the ice cream. Pinky promise.”

Jack raised his pinky finger with a determined expression. Anti wrapped his own around it with a smile. The Baby nodded. 

He carried him back to the car, and they went to a close by diner. They ate some fries with beef, and as usual, Jack made a mess. Eating was always disastrous without his bib, but they were in public, and Anti didn’t really want to bring attention to themselves today. Or any day, really. People should mind their own business, to be honest. 

“Can we get ice cream now?” Jack yawned. It was time for his post-lunch nap already.

“What if Daddy got a big pot of ice cream, so we can take it home and you can eat it after your nap?” the boy nodded, rubbing his eyes with his fist. It’s not like he had much in him to argue, anyway.

On the way to the closest ice cream place, Jack nodded off in the passenger seat, thumb firmly into his mouth, head against the window glass. He was kind of curled up, the way he always did when he slept, and his free hand was tucked between his knees and chest, as if protecting himself from the world.

He got the ice cream. Jack didn’t even stir. 

When they were home, ice cream in the fridge and Jack cuddled up in pillows on Anti's bed, the green-haired man looked for Jack's phone, and found it under his bed, as if dropped suddenly and forgotten. He got the phone and put it to charge. He and Jack had an unspoken privacy policy. As a decent caregiver, he’d never take advantage of his Little's unawareness and violate his adult privacy, like pry on his phone or mess with his work. This scenario was different, though. He’d need to see what had Jack seen on his phone that upset him so much, because apparently he’d refuse to talk about it even when he got out of headspace. 

It was decided: he’d look at Jack’s phone later in the day, when it was charged.

Anti busied himself in the meantime, preparing a bottle of milk for Jack and placing it in the fridge. After that, he got to work creating a small snack for the boy when he woke up. A small Marvel-themed bowl filled with a few grapes, goldfish crackers, and mini pretzel sticks. A healthy combination Anti thought. He wrapped it up in cling-wrap, and put it in the fridge as well. Once that was done, he proceeded to pick up the toys and crayons left behind on the floor from when Jack had watched a movie yesterday. He smiled to himself, noticing that most of the crayons were heavily worn down. Jack had these crayons for awhile. It was probably time for some new ones. Anti had been debating on buying some pastel colored ones for his baby boy.

The mess was cleaned up, and Anti quickly poked his head back into his room.

Jack was still sound asleep, and probably would be for awhile.

Anti took this opportunity to check the Irishman's phone. Plucking it out of its charge, he unlocked it, and went to his numerous social media pages. 

Jack had spoke of "mean people". Anti figured looking through the comments would give him a lead. Browsing through twitter and tumblr, he couldn't find anything that was too shocking or insulting. He tried YouTube instead, going through the comments of some of Jack's recent videos.

He scrolled and scrolled, till he started to see a reoccurring thing.

A majority of the comments were...harsh. And mostly talking about how "childish" Jack had been acting. Some comments were incredibly rude and blatant, stating how Jack needed to "stop acting like a baby and just grow up". Anti swore under his breath. This must have been why Jack had slipped in the first place. He sat down on the bed next to him, and deliberated. He couldn’t bring this up while Jack was still in headspace, otherwise his Baby would feel even worse, but he wouldn’t get out of headspace until the issue was discussed either. They were stuck.

Anti looked at him, sleeping soundly, clutching his pillow a little. It wasn’t that he didn’t like taking care of him; quite the contrary, really. They’d built this relationship precisely because Jack needed a safe space to forget about all of his adult problems, and Anti to fulfill his desire to take care of someone, be needed and looked up to. Have the social boundaries of affection broken, be free to be tender, sentimental, cuddly. 

Taking care of Jack wasn’t at all a problem. The issue was, that he had slipped abruptly, and by self defense. He felt threatened, so he put himself in his safe bubble, because he knew that he was safe with Daddy. By slipping in an act of self preservation, he denied and continued to neglect his mind to deal with his emotions properly. In short, staying Little for days without coming back to himself even once, for Jack, meant that there was something wrong. That’s why it worried Anti. He sighed. 

He read one last comment before leaving the phone alone. It was a rebuttal against people who were defending Jack, saying it was part of the fun to be childish sometimes. 

_“idk about you guys, but if he acted like a screaming toddler irl all the time, I wouldn’t keep being his friend. I think he’ll end up alone bc ppl won’t bear him anymore.”_

Maybe that left the Little Irishman with the terrifying belief that Anti would leave him, while he was a Baby. He’d never do that, of course, but that must have terrified him. His earlier panic attack started to make sense now. His gaze shifted to the body next to him; Jack was beginning to stir, making small stretching movements. The boy yawned, his paci dropped from his lips, causing him to whine softly.

“Hi baby,” he muttered, “how was your nap?”

The brown-haired man blinked his eyes open slowly, and nodded contentedly. 

“Let’s go downstairs and have a snack, why won’t we?”

“I’m hungry,” the boy agreed.

Jack ate his snack without a fuss, though Anti could clearly see the grumpiness written across his face as the Irishman half-heartedly chomped down onto a pretzel stick. Judging by how Jack's eyes continuously glanced at the fridge, Anti had a feeling that Jack was secretly hoping to get some ice cream. That would come later though. No doubt that if he gave some to the Little now, he would end up having a crazy baby on a sugar rush to deal with later.

An idea came to him suddenly.

"Hey Jackabug, wanna try some fingerpainting today?" he suggested, taking away Jack's bowl once he had eaten the very last goldfish cracker.

Jack looked up with inquisitive eyes; his thumb already slipping into his mouth. Anti gave a soft smile, gently pulling the thumb out and replacing it with the paci that had been clipped onto Jack's shirt earlier. The Little nodded eagerly and gave an excited jitter, causing Anti to chuckle.

"Okay buddy, you just stay in your seat, and Daddy will go get the paint from the bathroom. Can you stay here for Daddy?"

The boy nodded again.

Anti went to the bathroom cabinet where he kept a few pots of different water-based paint and picked them up, placing them in the living room table with new blank paper sheets. He placed the sheets over some old newspaper he kept around for messy situations. The paint was easy enough to clean off furniture, but he didn’t want to bother about cleaning up later.

He went back to the kitchen to see Jack sitting obediently in his highchair, dangling his feet and muttering a song.

“Frosty weather, snowy weather, when the wind blows, we all go together,” he sang softly, “three steps back and one, two, three!” he chirped, kicking his feet three times.

Anti knew that song. It was an irish nursery rhyme.

“Windy weather, rainy weather, when the wind blows-”

“We all go together!” he cut in, a huge smile spreading across the Baby’s face. “Three steps back and one-” he jumped a step in his direction, “two!-” he reached the highchair, “-three!” and tickled him mercilessly.

“DADDY!-” he squealed in between a loud crackle, while Anti pretended to munch on his hair and his cheeks.

“Time to unleash my Little Picasso!” he announced, picking him up whilst laughing and walking towards the living room table. Jack's eyes sparkled with pure excitement. He laid the boy on the floor and sit behind him on the couch, as usual.

“I’m gonna paint Daddy a picture,” he told Anti, in a determined tone.

“What an honor!” the green-haired man gasped lightly. Jack already had his finger on two different paints, and a bit on his cheek. Anti shook his head in amusement, and let his Baby have his fun.


	3. Chapter 3

The evening went by smoothly, it rained thinly, the water drops falling almost sluggishly across the window glass, the TV filling the white noise as Jack painted and painted. He was completely focused on his task, too, almost like when he played with his letter blocks, his mind quiet and filled by the safety of cotton candy headspace. Anti's knees brushed against the boy’s sides almost reassuringly, as a constant reminder that he was there, he was paying attention.

His paci, that found its way back to Jack's mouth after his snack, was covered in paint on the outside , and his clothes were equally as colourful. It didn’t really matter, laundry day was tomorrow anyway.

“Da'wy, ‘m done!” Jack eventually called, speech lisped through the pacifier. He raised his drawing with stained fingers and presented it proudly, stuffing his chest.

It might have looked like a simple picture; drawing wasn’t Jack's biggest talent when he was a grown-up, but Anti noticed the subtle worry about the order of which the colours were put, and the contrast that they made with each other. It was the kind of fore thinking that babies didn’t have, and the brown-haired man usually didn’t either, while in headspace. That might’ve been a sign that he was more relaxed, his adult headspace showing itself underneath. 

The painting was a bright blue sky, illuminated by a giant sun that had a smiley face on it. Of course. There were some trees, some flowers, and right in the middle there was a representation of a green-haired man with black clothes, and a pacified baby on his shoulders, having a piggy ride. Anti smiled fondly.

“It looks awesome, buddy. You’re so talented,” he praised, Jack's cheeks going pink.

He paused, then scooped the boy into a warm hug in his lap, the brown-haired man's head tucked into his neck, nuzzling happily through the comfort.

“You know why, in this drawing, Daddy has a smiley face?” he murmured, glancing down at the Little.

“Because…” he looked thoughtful, “it was a happy day?”

“And you know what made the day so happy?” he inquired.

“The happy sun!”

Anti huffed a laugh, “Yes, the happy sun was really nice. But I’d have had a smiley face even if it was a grey day. You know why?” the boy shook his head, puzzled.

“Because you make me happy, baby,” the green-haired man continued, “not the sun, not the trees. Not even the pretty flowers. You are the reason I smile every day. You make me the happiest Daddy in the world, did you know that?”

“But…” the Baby started.

“You make me happy, you’ll always make me happy. Life wouldn’t be the same without my sweet bug. Understand? I’d never leave you, not a chance.” He brushed the boy's hair away from his wide eyes.

“You promise?”

“Pinky promise.” And they intertwined their pinky fingers again. The boy smiled, the most pure and relieved smile.

“Can I have ice cream now?” he asked, and Anti chuckled.

“Yes, baby boy, you can.”

As the evening came to a close, they found themselves snuggled underneath a massive blanket/pillow fort, with bowls of banana chocolate ice cream, and the Aristocats playing on the tv. Luckily Anti had put on Jack's bib this time. The silly boy was always messy, especially with ice cream. The movie eventually finished, and Jack was leaning against Anti, his head resting on his daddy's shoulder, quietly sucking on his paci. Anti could easily see the exhaustion in his eyes. It was definitely bed time.

"Hey bug, it's getting late. Want Daddy to help you get ready for bed?" Anti softly asked, leaning down and giving a kiss to Jack's fluffy brown head.

"Mmm," was all Jack replied with, giving a slow nod.

"M'kay then. Let's get you a bottle first, then we'll get your teeth brushed and the rest of you cleaned up."

\-----

Jack was already waiting for him on the couch when Anti returned with his cold bottle of milk. The green-haired man gently held his boy in his lap, keeping Jack in a comfortable position so he wouldn't choke, and guided the nipple of the bottle to the baby's lips. Jack curled up close to Anti, eagerly drinking down the milk, and making tiny cute sucking noises as he did.

Anti watched with a warm smile as his little bug nursed. There was no sight sweeter than this.

The sucking motion got slower, lazy, as the boy's half-lidded eyes drooped insistently, his head resting on Anti's chest and body completely relaxed against him. The green-haired man gently took the nipple of the bottle out of Jack's parted lips and placed it on the table. He shifted his arms so he could pick the Baby up, cradled snuggly against his chest, and walked upstairs. Anti brushed the boy's teeth carefully, the Little moving just if necessary, and then they finally went to Anti's bed. 

Anti was asleep in less than 5 minutes, arms gently but firmly around Jack's body.

The next morning, Jack was still Little. Though, he seemed more aware of his bearings than usual, maybe fighting headspace in his head. They watched a movie, ate, then Anti got some Play-Doh for him to mess with.

“I’m gonna make a big…thing,” Jack said.

“What thing?”

“I dunno, just…a thing, Daddy!”

“Oh, of course, a thing,” he mused, “how silly of me, that’s obvious!”

Jack giggled, “Daddy silly.”

“Hey! You take that back, you stinker!” Anti remarked, not a drop of malice on his tone, just pure and utter affection. The Baby stuck his tongue out at him before shifting his focus on the colourful clay. 

His phone blipped from time to time, random notifications on YouTube videos and his own, secret accounts on social media where he could keep an eye on Jack’s community. The brown-haired man tilted his head.

“Daddy, phone’s makin' ‘beep',”

“I’ll get to it later, now I’m busy,”

“Busy with what?”

“Watching you, of course!” he said in a goofy voice. 

Jack frowned. “But you do that all the time!”

“Well, not all the time. Sometimes I don’t need to, because you’re a big boy,”

“But even when I’m a big boy,” Jack started, slowly, as if searching for words was a big effort. Which, to be fair, it probably was. “You’re always takin' care of me!”

Anti eyed him thoughtfully. “That’s what friends do...and that’s what Daddies do.”

The Little placed the Play-Doh in front of him, lowering his hands with a sad expression. Anti sighed quietly, crouching down next to him. “What is it, baby? What’s got you so upset?”

“...Why don’t you love me anymore, Daddy?”

 _Christ._ Those comments must have really messed with his head. It broke Anti's heart.

“Baby,” he started, “I still love you. Of course I still love you, and I always will. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Because they said,” he croaked, “that you’d get tired of me. That babies are annoying an'…an’ no one wants a fussy baby.” Jack's eyes filled with unshed tears, and each word spoken was like an arrow right through Anti's core. As a Daddy, there were a few things worse than anything; one of them, was if your Baby felt unloved.

“Jack,” he called, and said very softly, “I want to show you something. Do you trust Daddy?”

“Yeah,” Jack looked up at him.

“Say it.” 

“I trust Daddy,” he said, with a faint smile.

Anti pulled out his noisy phone from his pocket, and went to a specific video to go through the comment section. He found what he was looking for.

“Can you read, right now?” he asked the boy. Jack nodded and looked at the screen.

_“I love his bubbly commentary hahahah”_

_“How can Jack be so chipper?? I’m jealous!”_

_“This game pisses me off so much, idk how Jack can still laugh with it!”_

Jack stared in silence at the words.

“Being ‘childish’ just means you’re having fun, that you’re being yourself. You don’t need to be serious all the time, or responsible, or have everything figured out. That’s why I’m here. Not only because I love you, baby bug, but because you can let go for a while. You can trust me, and you can just… _be_ ,” Anti explained, “I won’t get tired of you, because you’re not a bother.”

While Anti had spoken, Jack had let several tears fall down his rosy cheeks, and his faint smile widened to a relieved one. He threw himself at Anti, and the green-haired man, instinctively, wrapped him in a tight and warm hug. They stayed like that for a while, just feeling each other's heart beats, until Jack's breathing matched Anti's again. Calm, deep breaths, Anti thought to himself, _I can keep you happy, I can make you feel loved._

“How about you make that thing you were talking about with clay, hm?” Anti murmured, caressing the back of Jack’s head.

“What thing?” the brown-haired man asked with a sniff.

“You never told me, did you?” he teased, and Jack giggled, Anti's favourite sound in the world, and got back to playing.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack went to bed easily that evening without a fuss, and Anti couldn't have been happier as he had effortlessly carried Jack to his room and put him down for the night. However, come the next morning, Anti was faced with a much different situation. One that he hadn't encountered for quite awhile.

He had gotten up that morning, carefully sliding out of Jack's bed to go and splash his face with some water, wanting to wake himself up a bit. He had just grabbed a towel when he suddenly heard Jack bawling. Quickly drying his face off, he jogged back to the room, finding the Irishman sitting up in the bed and crying very loudly. Anti was familiar with the types of crying that Jack did. He could easily identify when Jack was in littlespace or when he was an adult. But this kind of crying seemed to break Anti's heart almost entirely. It didn't sound like it belonged to a toddler or an adult.

It sounded like an infant. A very _very_ upset infant.

Anti was quick to make his way over to the bed, gathering Jack into his arms and gently stroking his hair. "Ssssssshhhhh ssssshhhhh, it's okay, buddy. It's okay. I'm right here. Daddy's right here." He could feel the Irishman's body heave with each sob, letting his baby's tears soak into his pj shirt, holding him close in a safe and tender embrace. Anti hadn't heard Jack cry like this in a long time, and the brown-haired man often didn't get this upset when he was 3 or 4 years old.

Was it possible that Jack had regressed even further? Anti gently pulled back a little, using his shirt to wipe away the remainder of his baby's tears. "Hey sweetie, can you tell Daddy how old you are right now?"

Something different seemed to have happened. Anti watched as Jack sniffled a few more times, before looking straight at him. Jack wore a rather peculiar expression. He seemed to have heard his Daddy's question, but...it almost seemed like he didn't understand it. Instead, Jack suddenly took interest in Anti's face; hands reaching out and clumsily touching the green-haired man's beard. Jack opened his mouth and out came...gibberish.

"Ablah!" he babbled, patting at Anti's face and making quiet gurgling noises.

Anti's suspicions were confirmed. Jack had regressed further. Much further. So far back, that Anti could only assume that he was dealing with a 1 year old now. Maybe even younger, if Jack couldn't even use his words. The green-haired man quickly calmed himself down, though. Jack regressing deeply can only mean he’s close to coming to himself again, his body begging for a full restart. Okay. He could do this. It was his Baby, after all.

“Okay, buddy, let’s go eat something.” He got up with Jack in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, while the Little Irishman played with a few strands of his green hair. 

“Why were you crying, hm?” Anti asked, more to himself than anything, “I’m starting to think you only do it to make me have mild heart attacks each time. You like scaring Daddy, don’t you?”

Jack seemed content by hearing Anti’s voice chatting away, like most infants usually do. Even if he couldn’t really participate much. So Anti kept talking, softly, while mashing some potatoes and rice for lunch; he doubted Jack could chew food without choking. It was late for breakfast, anyway.

“Okay,” he stated, fixing Jack's bib under the Baby's chin, “you gotta cooperate with me, no messes.”

It was more of prayer than a warning tone.

There was a lot of mess. Of course there was.

Jack seemed to find Anti's hands to be way more interesting than food, and kept trying to catch him while he tried to move the spoon, which caused rice to fly everywhere. Including on Anti's face. He stuck his tongue out to catch some on his nose, and Jack broke down in loud giggles. Anti huffed a laugh in spite of himself. 

“You’re cute,” he cooed tenderly, then made a face, “and sticky.”

The green-haired man took the sticky bib to the sink, then picked the Baby up to give him his morning bath, even though it wasn’t really morning anymore. It’s not like Jack would mind.

Oh, but Anti was wrong. Toddler Jack didn’t mind baths. Infant Jack? _Hated_ them, he discovered.

“Jack, stop screaming!” Anti pleaded, “and splashing water everywhere!”

His pleads were useless, the bathroom was soon to become a mud mess. His eyes landed on a few of Jack's yellow rubber ducks on the sink.

“Jack, I didn’t know your little friend was here!” He prompted. The brown-haired man took a shuddering breath between his sobs, looking up at Anti with big, sad eyes. How could anyone resist those eyes?

The green-haired man stoop up briefly and took three yellow ducks, making a big show of them falling down in the tub, with little screams and squeaks, and something along the lines of, “help me! I’m a duck, I can’t fly, what the hell!” which made Jack burst out laughing; a happy, bubbly laugh that could melt entire icecaps. Distracted with the ducks, the Baby didn’t even realize how Anti was expertly covering him with soap and bubbles from head to toe, and before he could protest against his hair being washed, Anti made him a big bubble beard.

“Oh my, I didn’t know you were a pirate, baby boy! You have more beard than Daddy has!” he enthused. He rinsed everything off and dried the Little one with a soft towel, before laying him in bed to diaper him. Who knows, he thinks, with this mindset, he might actually need it for once. 

With Jack clean as can be, smelling of shampoo and baby powder in his red onesie, Jack was put sitting up in bed with a few letter blocks and super-hero figurines to play with, while Anti watched cross-legged in front of him.

“With this onesie, you look like a super-hero yourself, honey.” Anti chirped. “you'd be called… Jackaboy… man!” Jack giggled around his paci, making one of the figurines walk across Anti’s legs.

Anti grinned as he watched Jack entertain himself with his action figures. He spotted the blocks next to the Irishman, and pointed at them. "Hey Jackabug, can you spell your name for Daddy?"

Jack looked up from his playing; bright blue eyes staring inquisitively at Anti as his brain tried to register the question. Anti could tell he was having a bit of trouble, so he picked up a few of the blocks. Carefully he rearranged them in front of Jack, till they spelled out 'daddy'.

"Look Jackaboo, what does that spell?" Anti asked, watching how Jack was studying the words. His cute little eyebrows narrowed, focusing, before looking up at Anti and pointing at him.

"Da!"

"That's right! You're such a smart little bugger!" Anti cooed, leaning forward and pulling Jack into a hug, giving the baby noisy raspberries and kisses on his cheek. Jack squealed and squirmed in his daddy's hold, blabbering out happy gibberish as he was assaulted with kisses and tickles. Anti chuckled and pulled away, giving his baby some air. He then pointed to the blocks again. "Hey buddy, how about you try and spell your name for Daddy, hm?"

Jack tilted his head, staring at the blocks that still spelt out 'daddy'. He reached for one, and held it up, before promptly putting his mouth on it and sucking on it.

Anti shook his head in amusement, “Your paci is right there, Baby!”, and took the piece out of Jack's lips. The Little Irishman smiled, a bright, open smile that could probably lighten up the entire Dark Age. 

He organized the blocks in such a way that they spelled “Jack”.

“Who's that, buddy?” He prompted. Jack’s eyes brightened up immediately as he patted his own chest.

“Me!” He squealed, earning another tackle and enthusiastic clapping.

They played together for a few hours; Anti spelling different things with the blocks and asking Jack to tell him what the spelled words meant, while the brown-haired man chewed occasionally on his action figures. The evening went by quickly, with a pause to eat some sandwiches and in Jack's case, a bottle of warm milk while he watched cartoons on the TV, curled up in a blanket cocoon made by Anti on the sofa. He chuckled at the sight.

“Oh my, my baby is buried under!”

Jack perked up at the tone; he dropped the — thankfully already empty— bottle and raised his arms, making grabby hands at him. Anti sat on the sofa and pulled Jack's body on his lap, his diapered soft bottom on his knee, and bounced it up and down. The Baby laughed with the movement, hair going up and coming down over his eyes. 

“Bouncing baby boy!” he sang, booping Jack's cheek with his nose; it tickled!

“Alright,” Anti said, “I’ll make some yummy dinner, and then we’re gonna take a bath, watch a movie, and go to sleep!” 

Jack seemed pretty content with his plans. Or maybe he was happy because he was playing with Anti's green strands of hair again. 

Oh, well.

The green-haired man placed his Baby back in his blanket cocoon and went to the kitchen, pondering about his options. Jack never really liked baby food, they’ve talked about it; the consistency of it felt weird. He wanted something easy to eat, and he felt like pampering Jack a bit with something tasty. He eyes a pack of frozen chicken nuggets in the cupboard. That’d do.

Twenty minutes later, as he was putting the nuggets on plates, he heard some sniffling. He set the plates at the kitchen table and went to check on Jack in the living room, to find the boy crying again.

“Jack?” He called, the brown-haired man’s eyes shot up, wide and full of tears. He was distressed, Anti could tell. He walked closer and Jack shrank back into the sofa, hiding his face from him.

“What is it?” Anti asked in a soft tone, which resulted in Jack crying harder. He slowly sat down next to the crying man and pushed the blankets apart, with some resistance from the Baby.

His diaper seemed heavier. “Oh, Jack.” He cupped Jack's cheeks with both hands, his thumb soothingly moving over his skin, cleaning the wet trails of tears. “It’s okay, honey. You can’t really control it, can you?” Anti carefully picked him up, a hand under the boy's padded bum and another on the small of his back, making shushing sounds. “It’s why I put you in nappies in the first place, Daddy isn’t mad with you, I promise.”

Jack calmed down listening to the caring voice tone. He laid his head on Anti's shoulder as they went up the stairs, sniffling occasionally still.

The green-haired man lays him down on a towel, and quickly cleans him up with a cold tissue, rubbing gently his thighs and groin with baby powder. Jack sucked his thumb during the whole ordeal, his cheeks pink. Anti threw the wet diaper away and washed his hands, picking Jack up again and carding his fingers through the Baby's hair while he buried his nose on his neck.

“I made yummy nuggets, I know how much you like them,” he chirped quietly, and Jack made a contented noise. He smiled, and went downstairs again.

Anti carefully placed the infant in his highchair, before fetching the plate of nuggets. He smiled, seeing that they were dinosaur shaped, before grabbing a bottle of ketchup. Jack was watching him curiously, though his blue eyes lit up when he caught sight of the dinosaur shaped nuggets on that plate.

"Dino! Dinoooooooo!" the Little squealed, hands outstretched and reaching already for the food.

Anti chuckled and carefully held the meal out of Jack's reach. He didn't want a mess happening already. It also occurred to him that Jack was slowly using actual words now. Seemed like his baby was starting to shift into a slightly older mindset.

"Now now Jack, we don't want you to get all messy again, hm?" Anti playfully chastised. He put some ketchup onto the plate, right in the center of the circle of nuggets, before carefully placing the plate in front of Jack.

He picked up the first nugget with surprising delicacy, and proceeded to eat it one bite at a time.

“Good boy! Daddy had to clean a lot of mess already,” he praised, and joined him, eating as well.

When they were done, there was barely some stains of ketchup on Jack's face, which was also a good sign of his mind clearing up a bit. He brushed the Baby's teeth and put him on the play mat on the living room.

Anti was tired. Taking care of Jack was an honour, really, but three days in a row with no warning and a deeper regression was exhausting. That was the reason why when his head touched the sofa cushion behind Jack, he immediately fell asleep again.

He woke up with a crash.

“Daddy!” 

Anti bolted from the cushions, his heart rate miles per hour. He was dizzy from the sudden awakening and movement, he was sore from his position, he tripped on several blocks. Nothing mattered; at that moment, Jack's safety was all he worried about.

“Jack! Jack, where are you?!” he shouted on his way, to find a crumpled form on the kitchen floor, the jar of gummy bears shattered.

“I-I'm so-oh-rry Daddy, I d-didn’t mean to!” the brown-haired man cried, hiding his face on his knees. The were red droplets staining the glass. Anti's eyes widened as he knelt down to his level.

“Jack, are you hurt? Let me see,” he urged. Jack only curled up on himself more. “I'm not mad, buddy, you cut yourself with the glass, didn’t you? I need to see how deep the cut is.”

Jack sniffled a couple more times before shakily stretching out his arm, his face still hidden. There was a cut right on his left hand, going from the inside of his wrist to the middle of his palm. After inspecting it closely, he noted the wound wasn’t that deep, it just bled a lot because hands had a lot of blood vessels. He sighed in relief.

“Okay, let’s wash this up, it’s not that bad,” he coached gently, standing Jack up and taking him to the sink. He was quiet during the whole process. After rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, he found Jack's favourite band-aids, the colourful ones, and placed one on Jack's injury. He lifted the Little Irishman’s chin to look at him.

“It’s your favourite band-aid, isn’t that nice? It even has a penguin on it,” he chirped softly. Jack seemed to perk up at that, looking down at his own hand with a tiny smile and a last sniffle.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he apologized with a shaky voice.

“It's okay, honey. Just don’t go trying to get things without Daddy anymore, please.” 

Jack nodded.

Anti hadn’t even realized Jack was talking again, he seemed to have gone back to the usual age he regressed. Finally, familiar territory again.

They went back to the living room, and after a quick kitchen wipe down and some gummy bear bowls later, Jack was happily watching his cartoons, sucking on his blue pacifier, while Anti carded his fingers through his brown hair. Deep in thought, he went through all the things he could tell Jack about this whole situation, but ended up just enjoying the peaceful moment until it was time for his Baby's bedtime once again.

As on cue, Jack yawned widely.

“Time for bed, precious,” he said, scratching the brown-haired man's scalp gently. He leaned to Anti's touch, not making any objections.

He picked the Little Irishman up by his armpits, turning him around to hold him properly against his chest. Jack blinked sleepily up at him with big, blue eyes.

“Are you gonna sleep with me, Daddy?” he whispered. Anti smiled softly.

“Of course.”

They went up the stair and had their bedtime routine. Anti turned off the lights and laid on his back in bed, wrapping his arms around an already asleep Jack, who was sucking peacefully on his blue pacifier.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this super short end chapter! I know I didn't do the best job in splitting up the story into proper chapters...

Daylight invaded the room, directly at Jack's eyes. He frowned. Anti must’ve let the curtains open. _Asshole,_ he thought. He blinked his eyes open to find his cheek gently tucked in someone’s chest, and arms snuggly holding him in place. His lips parted slightly, and he raised his eyebrows. He had been sucking on his pacifier, that now laid just in front of him, going up and down with Anti's slow breathing. He was still asleep.

Jack's heart swelled, it all came down to him. He read some mean comments the other day that really got to him, and he might have slipped. That wasn’t all, though, he knew; he had been working himself to the ground again, not eating properly, fighting against sleep. Refusing some very much needed Little time when Anti offered it to him. 

He looked up at Anti's sleeping face. He had bags under his eyes, and seemed tired. Jack scolds himself. He must’ve not have been an easy Baby these last few days, he could feel it in the way he was completely relaxed, his mind full of sweet thoughts. He probably took it all out on the poor green-haired man. He shuts his eyes closed and nuzzles Anti's chest lightly. 

Anti is startled awake with a gasp, hand already moving on an automatic search of Jack's paci, taking it and putting it delicately between the Irishman’s lips, petting his hair.

“Shh,” he coos, sleepily, not even opening his eyes, “it’s okay, Jack. Daddy’s here.”

Jack is flooded with a wave of affection and appreciation. The man didn’t even know he was “back”, just instantly taking care of him already. Jack shifts and moves the paci out of his mouth again.

“Daddy, um,” he clears his throat shyly, “Anti, it’s okay.”

Anti opened his eyes, eyebrows raised, looking down. “Jack?”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m back.”

He felt Anti sigh. “You owe me a jar of gummy bears,” he said, playfully.

Jack giggled, then his expression faltered. “I’m sorry.”

The green-haired man smiled, pulling Jack up closer to his face level. “You know I love to take care of you. It’s not a one-way thing, remember?” he immediately reassured. 

_He always knows what I need,_ Jack thought. “Okay,” Jack breathed, relieved. “I was just…”

“You were upset,” Anti said, “and tired. You know how worried I get when you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I know…” The brown-haired man muttered, looking down guiltily. 

“Next time, I’m making an intervention,” Anti said, his tone was final. Jack nodded. 

He brushed his fingers through Jack's messy hair. “Those comments you saw were very mean,” he explained, “but being childish or chipper doesn’t mean you’re immature, or a bother. I’ll never get tired of you. You’re not a burden, regardless of headspace. I love my Baby when he needs me, and I love my best friend.” He hugs Jack warmly, murmuring on his ear, “your fans love you, and I love you, understand?”

“Yeah,” Jack whispered in return. 

Anti pats him on the back.

“Now…” he says, with a mischievous grin, “if you’re fast enough, you still get breakfast privileges.”

“What-” Jack says, as Anti jumps out of bed and starts running down the stairs. “HEY!” He hears Anti's laugh, and shakes his head. He giggles, getting out of bed quickly, “I’m calling social services on your irresponsible ass!”

He jumps down the stairs, where he finds Anti dancing a "winner's dance" cheekily in the kitchen. He rolls his eyes.

 _Well,_ he thought, _if Daddy could be silly, so can I!_


End file.
